


two slow dancers

by kinroses



Series: liebestraum [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: F/M, House of X/Powers of X, Mutant Moira MacTaggert, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Slow Dancing, X-Men: First Class (2011)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinroses/pseuds/kinroses
Summary: Erik is her polar opposite in everything except mentality  —- there, they are practically the same.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Moira MacTaggert
Series: liebestraum [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998895
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	two slow dancers

**Author's Note:**

> i know this fic is tagged moira mactaggert but since her abusive husband gave her that last name i will be referring to her as kinross.
> 
> hello! this is probably going to be a collection of one shots based off moira ﹠. erik that will be updated whenever i get enough muse ╱ energy to write something. as usual: don't like it? don't read it. i write for myself and no one else. i could update this tomorrow, a week from now, or a year from now. plz be patient. also: anything that i write that might sound confusing or out of the blue will be mentioned in future pieces ﹠. my bigger moira centered fic that will be posted.....one day. most of moira comes from either comics or personal headcanons. as does a chunk of her mutation.
> 
> RUNDOWN! in hoxpox, moira was revealed to be a mutant with the ability of reincarnation. 
> 
> also! for anyone that wants to talk to me about moira, my discord is kinross.#5695. please. no one ever lets me talk about her

He twirls her to the melody of Tchaiovsky and she pretends her racing heartbeat is caused by fear, not whatever feeling is clawing its way up her throat.

Charles had taken the children out for the day and had whispered to Moira about how he desired to show them how _beautiful_ mankind could be if two sides could coexist. Moira had said nothing on the subject, half because she didn't believe him and half because it wasn't her _place_. Their belief of her human status gives her an angle she never got in any of her previous lives. There's something to be said of Xavier's crush, this sweet little thing that never seemed to manifest until this life. She wonders if it's because he thinks of her as a human. 

Wonders, yes. Until her toes are stepped on and a raspy voice whispers into her ear, " _sorry, sorry_."

So it seems such thoughts prove far too distracting when dancing with Magneto. Moira says nothing in response. Instead she hums to the chords, her head falling upon his shoulder, cheek to fabric. The damn turtlenecks are far too scratchy and leave her unable to get any more comfortable. His black dress shoes a contrast to floral pumps, his professionalism makes her feel rather childish in her pink lace dress. Though in her defense it was the only clean article of clothing, purchased for Lord Kinross's funeral she had failed to attend. Erik is her polar opposite in everything except mentality —- there, they are practically the same. Identical look of determination set in brows, the same sort of coldness behind irises, the same bone deep ache that leaves them awake at night wishing for everything and nothing all at once. His hand grabs hers and he twirls her to the melody of Tchaiovsky and she pretends her racing heartbeat is caused by fear, not whatever feeling is clawing its way up her throat. His expression cold even as his touch warms her. His other hand, much larger than her own, comes to tuck a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"I don't know why you hate me, Erik." She confesses over the music. It's playing through the record player and she takes comfort in the scratches of the needle against the record.

He looks down at her, an eyebrow upward. Erik has a talent of making whoever he's looking at feel utterly stupid with only a glance. "I never said I hated you, Moira." He says, his thumb brushing along her red knuckles. That morning she had looked into her bathroom mirror and couldn't help but _**hate**_ the woman staring back at her. It was previously bandaged but now has healed entirely leaving only small cuts and irritated skin behind. "I suppose you confuse me more than anything."

 _It takes two to tango_ , she thinks distantly. "Hm." It isn't much, she knows, but the corner of his mouth quirks upward for a brief moment and she thinks about how _worth it_ that was, to see such a sight. Erik has never smiled for her, much less because of her. "I'll keep that in mind next time I see you glaring."

Cuba. The beach. Charles is screaming like a madman. She presses their foreheads together and calls for Erik with every fiber of her being.

He does not stop. The coin does not fall and Charles does not stop screaming until it is over. For a moment, however, as she begs Erik to let Shaw go, she swears she can feel him hesitate.


End file.
